A long way from anywhere (July, Nantwich)

Country air

The canal's scent (blocked
Drains) competes with the odour
Of manure-spreading


Gridlock

The road system makes
The most of its meagre traffic
With traffic lights


Throwbacks

Bored teenagers sit
On benches, like everywhere,
But they sometimes smile


New horizons

Many have departed
Leaving the old, the young, and
The unambitious


The bells, the bells

Thursday night practice
Peals ring out, a marathon
Of matrimony


Dissonance

A charity shop
Shows misery memoirs as
Its best-selling books


Holiday

The schools, offices,
Cafes, even the hotels,
Close for the summer


Fine distinctions

They are proud to be
From Cheshire, not Merseyside,
But sound like Scousers


Hard sell

The sign to the town
From the supermarket pleads
For more visitors


27/07/10

Metropolis

1. Hardware

Immersion

Stepping off the train
I'm engulfed by smells and noise
And the milling crowds

Becoming

Cranes arc the skyline
The city is unfinished,
A work in progress

Soundscape

Cars, planes and machines
Compete for decibel count:
Humanity's unheard

A/C

Unseen, the big fans,
Striving to stir the thick air,
Make a constant roar

Oasis

A quiet garden
Secluded from the traffic:
A lunchtime haven

Change

Free Evening Standards
Stacked outside the tube station:
The sellers have gone

Afternoon


The pavement glowers
Blood-hot air is heavy
With sweat and garlic


Afterwards

Tavistock Square looks
Unscarred, no longer marked out
By unwanted fame

Support

Scaffolding is like
Ivy: you never know when
It's holding walls up

Patch of blue

Sometimes when you round
A corner you can catch a
Glimpse of open sky

Mood swing

The train rises on
Its axles as passengers
Reach destinations


2. Software

Masks

Faces, all colours,
Bear the same shell-shocked grimace:
Hardened veterans

Babel

Short snatches of speech
Extravagantly diverse
Like flipping channels

Flocking together

In pairs and trios
Clusters wearing the same clothes
Knot the broad pavement

Always greener

The dozing beggar
In the shopfront is envied
By passing workers

Pariahs

Hanging round like kids
In doorways: smokers and those
On their mobile phones

Insight

It's not that people
Can't talk or smile, just that they
Meet many strangers

No country for old men

Every waitress,
Cook, bus driver, policeman
Is under thirty

Class

The staff bustle and
Seek the indulgence of their
Wealthy old masters

Withdrawal

Face wet with tears
She fidgets, sobbing a tale
Of meeting a friend

Preparation

Office worker sits
Touching up her mascara
Deep underground

Ink

It is good to see
So many books in hand - so
Reading is not dead

Rush hour physics

Room for just one more?
Somehow, there will always be
Room for just one more

The male gaze

I openly stare
At a beauty, forgetting
I've no sunglasses


20/7/10

Martin Locock

Tortured

For falling in love
She imposes the cruel and
Usual punishment


8/7/10